Driven To Distraction
by HalfwayDecentFanfiction
Summary: Mulan thought she was prepared for her diplomatic mission to Agrabah, but she hadn't counted on Princess Jasmine.


Mulan had been practicing the proper way to bow to the Sultan of Agrabah for months now. She had spent countless nights poring over books, committing every detail she could find about the city, its culture, and its people to memory. She had even written the most important facts on the back of her fan, just in case. This was her first diplomatic assignment, and she was the first woman ever to join the Emperor's council. The eyes of all of China would be on her, and she was determined not to mess this one up. Only, she hadn't been prepared for the princess.

Sure, she knew the proper way to address a princess of Agrabah, the history of the laws and politics behind the position, the right and wrong topics to bring up in casual conversation. But she hadn't been prepared for _the_ princess. In all her late nights of studying, she hadn't been prepared for the gorgeous woman who now stood in front of her in the entrance hall of the palace, wearing blue harem pants and a _very_ small top whose straps kept slipping off her slender shoulders. She didn't have written on her fan the proper protocol for how to respond to the large gold earrings that dangled charmingly beneath her inky black hair, which pooled like a cobra's hood around her delicate face. How could she focus on politics and diplomacy when the princess was looking at her with those brown eyes that sparked with excitement and life?

"Welcome to Agrabah," the princess said to her. "I'm Princess Jasmine." Mulan gulped, frantically trying to remember what to say. All her knowledge had flown out of her head. All she could choke out was a strangled, "Guh."

"What?" said Princess Jasmine, and then she smiled. "Oh, that's Rajah. Don't worry. He scares a lot of people, but he won't hurt you." Mulan briefly registered the large tiger standing next to the otherworldly vision before turning her full attention back to the princess. Suddenly remembering herself, she bowed.

"I'm, um, Fa Mulan of China," she said, unconsciously trying to make her voice sound deeper (an old habit from her days as a soldier that popped up when she was nervous).

"Let me show you the palace, Fa Mulan," she said. She then leaned towards Mulan conspiratorially, and the spicy, intoxicating scent of her perfume wafted towards Mulan's face. "I apologize in advance. It's dreadfully boring around here."

_Somehow, I doubt that,_ thought Mulan as Jasmine turned and walked away, swaying her hips.

...

Mulan's first few days staying at the Sultan's palace were breathless and nerve-wracking. She got along well with the round, jolly Sultan, and was coolly polite to his advisor, a tall, snakelike man with a tiny, curling beard and a parrot on his shoulder who made Mulan shiver whenever he looked at her. But Jasmine attended every political discussion, every formal meal, and even every outing to the city. She was a constant, alluring presence in the corner of Mulan's eye. Delicately biting into an apple, slowly stroking her tiger's soft fur, absently twirling a white flower around her long, delicate fingers-everything she did seemed to make Mulan lose focus, bring a blush to her cheeks and make her stomach flop. Fortunately, the Sultan was an easygoing, forgiving man. Unfortunately, Jafar, the advisor, was not. She had a sneaking suspicion that he was making note of every mistake she made and planning to use them against her.

On the fourth day of her stay, she awoke to find a palace guard standing over her, his sword drawn. She had leapt out of her bed, grabbing the dagger she had hidden under her pillow. Her battle instincts kicked in, and she made short work of the guard, then tied him up with her sash and gagged him with one of her slippers. She dressed herself quickly and hurried to the throne room, dreading what she might find.

Jafar was standing over the Sultan, his golden, snake-headed staff raised, and gloating. Mulan ducked behind a pillar, then noticed Jasmine. The princess was pinned to the wall near the by another guard, a scimitar at her throat. Mulan noticed several other guards nearby, guarding the entrances to the room, and with a shock, saw that their eyes were glowing with a strange green light, the same green light that shone from the eyes of the snake on Jafar's staff.

"With the diplomat as a hostage, I can overtake China," he was saying. "But first, I'll dispose of you and wed your daughter." That was all Mulan needed to hear. Quickly, she thought of a plan.

She jumped the guard holding Jasmine from behind, knocking him out as quietly as she could with the butt of the sword she'd taken from the guard in her room. Then, she pressed a hand to the princess's mouth to keep her from crying out. She stole a glance at Jafar, who was too busy savoring his victory to notice what she'd done.

"Distract him," Mulan murmured in Jasmine's ear. "I'll get the staff." Jasmine nodded, then ran at Jafar.

"Please," she said, throwing herself in front of the Sultan with tears in her eyes, "let him go."

"How did you-" Jafar began as Mulan crept behind him. Jasmine interrupted him by wailing, "If you ever want me to love you, you'll let him go!"

"I don't think so," he hissed, raising his staff with one hand. Mulan jumped on his arm, wresting the staff away and throwing it to the ground. It broke, sending green smoke everywhere. Several of the guards cried out at once. Mulan pinned the sputtering sorcerer to the ground and shoved her dagger under his chin.

_Huh,_ she thought. _I guess I've saved another country._

...

After that, Jafar was sent to the dungeons in chains, Mulan was proclaimed a hero by the Sultan, and Jasmine began to spend more and more time with her. She managed to find Mulan whenever she had a spare moment, and constantly asked her questions about how she had learned to fight. Eventually, Mulan overcame her tongue-tied awkwardness, stopped trying to avoid the princess, and began to answer her questions. She told Jasmine stories about her soldiering days, and Jasmine hung on to every word.

She began to look forward to her conversations with Jasmine, especially once Jasmine began to open up about her own life. Under her languid facade lay deep frustration and longing. Mulan was amazed to find out that the princess was almost never allowed outside the palace, and even then she had been heavily chaperoned (except, Jasmine confided, the few times she had snuck out by herself). Mulan couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Jasmine to have had to stay in the same few rooms for her entire life. Even if she was in the lap of luxury, that was no life for anyone. Jasmine was prone to fits of rage and restlessness, and often came to Mulan when she needed a sympathetic listener. Mulan secretly enjoyed this. It was Jasmine at her most honest and real, the person behind the spectacular being Mulan had thought her when they first met. One particular day, Jasmine had stormed into Mulan's bedroom, not bothering to knock, and flung herself onto the large chair next to Mulan's bed. Mulan turned from her desk, putting down her pen.

"I am so tired of all these suitors!" said Jasmine, draping herself over the back of the chair. "They're just a bunch of puffed-up, pompous windbags who...who treat me like some kind of trophy!"

"I'm sure they're not all bad," said Mulan.

"Most of them are," said Jasmine. "I wish I could do what you did. Run away. Join the army. See the world." Mulan smiled a little at the mental picture of Jasmine at an army training camp. Then an image of Jasmine, the same fire in her eyes that she had now, in full armor, wielding a scimitar on the battlefield. She had to admit, a fully trained Jasmine would be a formidable foe.

"I didn't do what I did to escape marriage," said Mulan. "I'm going to find someone, someday. And you will, too. Your birthday isn't for two months. I'm sure you'll find someone you like before then."

"I doubt it," said Jasmine, a little more calmly. "Even the ones who aren't rude and stuck-up are boring. They're the same as me. They've lived in castles all their lives, and none of them have any interest in exploring the world, much less letting me explore it." She sighed and rolled over onto her back. "I wish princes were more like you. Then maybe I'd be interested in getting married."

At those words, Mulan's heart fluttered just a little.

...

"I'm still not sure about this," the Sultan said hesitantly. He moved one of his game pieces forward. He and Mulan were playing pai sho in one of his private rooms. He was hopeless at the game, but Mulan let him win about half the time anyway.

"Trust me, this is exactly what your daughter needs," said Mulan. "She's restless, and she needs to get out of the palace for a while and clear her head. And you did say you could make some changes to the law. So she doesn't have to be sixteen, and it doesn't have to be a prince."

"Yes, I can," he said. "And I suppose you're right. She's impossible to manage the way she is now. All right, I give my permission. Would you like to tell her?" Mulan nodded, leaving the game behind as she practically ran out of the room.

Jasmine was in the garden with Rajah. As with every time she saw Jasmine, Mulan was struck by her, the way her lithe, slender form looked in front of the enormous fountain. For a moment, she was distracted from her news, but then Jasmine looked at her expectantly.

"Jasmine," said Mulan, "would you like to come back to China with me?"

"What?" said Jasmine.

"I've already talked to your father," said Mulan. "He's willing to change the law so that you don't have to get married until you're eighteen, and you don't have to marry a prince. You could live with me for as long as you want, and come with me when I travel. And you can try to find someone you like to get married to. A soldier in China, maybe." Jasmine took Mulan's hand in her own. Mulan suddenly felt warm all over. It wasn't the first time Jasmine had touched her, of course, but this was different. There was tension in the air.

"A soldier in China," said Jasmine, looking at Mulan in that way she had, through heavy-lidded, kohl-lined eyes. "Yes. I'd love to come with you."

...

Two Years Later

Mulan dismounted, then pulled Jasmine down from the horse. They turned to look at the Palace of Agrabah, still unchanged after all this time. Jasmine had kept extending her short trip to China, staying as long she possibly could. It was now a month before her eighteenth birthday. Jasmine had, indeed, found someone who she hoped her father would approve of. Their relationship was a little unorthodox, yes, but she hoped her father would understand. After all, Mulan had saved his life.

Mulan kissed her princess on the forehead.

"Are you ready to go back?" she said.

"As ready as I can be," said Jasmine. "I just hope he's not angry."

"Your father?" said Mulan, putting her arm around Jasmine's shoulders. "No, I can't imagine it. He might be a bit indignant at first, but when he calms down, he'll just be happy that you're happy."

"Yes, I'm sure," she said. "And it'll be good to see him again. Let's go in." She walked ahead of Mulan. And Mulan, who was about to begin the most important diplomatic mission of her life, stopped and watched her princess.

Even after living with Mulan for two years, Jasmine still found ways to distract her. Her long, slender form pulsed with freedom and energy. Her hair swung back and forth in a heady, exhilarating way. She was even more radiant than the day Mulan had first met her, partly because she was happier, and partly because Mulan _knew_ her, knew all her habits and quirks, knew what she looked like at her best and her worst. Jasmine was magnetic. She drew Mulan to her, and Mulan never wanted to pull away.


End file.
